signs

Continued ….

 

but then he says the strangest thing,

“this—was not about—that—has nothing to do with—“ and he inflects his hand in a gesture of ‘you and me’ 

but I don’t look as I start to stand up 

I keep my eyes steady on his face not letting my eyes once drift to his lying hand gestures 

“Nothing has changed between us,” he says

and still I don’t look there. and my eyes get blurry. but I keep my eyes on him even as the blur wells and overflows.down my face.I never even blink and the torture numbs my brain 

“that had nothing to do with—“ ….again the hand gesture

I don’t plan it.

It happens.

I slap his face.

I didn’t know I was going to

 it is a swift slap and hard 

And like a person trained for combat, he moves to slap me back ….I forget whether I get out of his way or he stops in time 

“What is this?!”

It is Elsa who walks in now 

she looks at me and then at Jörn. Then walks to me still staring at Jörn and helps me step away from the counter I have been leaning against from the after affects,

“come….” she says and louder with a tone of command at Jörn, “your father is waiting!” 

Unconditional terms

Jörn walks to the window and looks out because I have just said those words aloud 

He stands by the window with his arms folded. Then turns his head to look at me,

“you say you believe in unconditional love? What if I did something —that went against yours?”

apocalyptic hollow

It is such a hollow epiphany….

like finding the grave of your best friend. The emotions twofold….”

it is the scent of boss that takes me to another chapter of Jörn and me. I put my face into his arm pit so as to feign something else than let on ….

 

“I wanted to apologize for being such a beast to you,” Jörn now says to me 

Electra’s dictionary & film noir; the slip on the skirted issue (s)(direction)

 

And it is when I had doubled back to the kitchens 

And so I fell against the wall into a swoon and looked around as—somehow ….

   it was as if I was somewhere else entirely 

….like …. some other time —and I don’t know why ….like jumping off a lift while it is in motion 

I catch my breath …. 

time is only measured in this dimension 

did you know that? it is only because of the plain fact that in this dimension, beings expire because they are organic here 

It is important what we do with our time ….it’s not meant as a joyride and I know most don’t get that 

So I lean against the brick wall of the kitchens and notice a slip of paper on the floor folded in half. I pick it up. 

In her neat familiar handwriting I see my name written —it is a note to me from Ilya ….it must have fallen from the counter and was forgotten about ….so I read ….it seems she thought to give the note to her fiancé to send to me as she lost my private number; as I realize she had made plans to go away; that would have been interrupted by her suddenly going into labor. 

So….I read on—she was asking if I might hire someone temporarily to take care of the museum artifacts and tours as well as the upkeep of the penthouse but….

and then 

I think of another message that recently I have received ….I write about purpose, gender and identity ….and the struggles of ….painful familiar relationships 

in that flash when I felt the weird wind tunnel rush of time I ….had a kind of moment of total clarity ….of course I must be here as it is time to become fully myself 

“Are you all right?” 

I look up and see that Jörn has come back and see by how he looks at me how I am leaned up against the wall 

“Jörn….” I say and look up at him

E.d.Noir/kitchen scene conclusion

 

“What is going on here?” 

It is Jörn in the doorway of the kitchen looking at us.

I stare frozen at him. Why do I feel guilty? I have done nothing wrong. And whatever I’ve done he will find out anyway from Andreas. Still, I feel guilty. Why do I always feel guilty ….for protecting myself….

but —now I stare at him; something about the grey in the shirt he wears and—I don’t know what comes over me. I foolishly have to catch myself on the back of the chair for losing my balance….and hide the way I catch my breath for how he looks ….and in what he wears; skin tight henley, shoulders and muscles…. and looking up, into his eyes and face …..of which I know every line and crease of —as if I put it all there myself ….how still he does this to me….and then 

I am caught and then lost within those eyes of kryptonite

Yet with not much ceremony, he takes hold of my wrist, gives bolts of lightening with his gaze at Andreas and says, 

“coming then?” with his vocal pitch aimed at me, and with a yank, pulls me out the door with him